You know when you have a cold, and you can't sleep or do daily tasks normally without thinking about if you can actually breathe at all or if you can make it up those steps without falling asleep? You think to yourself that you would appreciate normal so much more once this cold is over. You take normal for granted.
Today was one of those days, in a way. It kind of sucked. But at the same time, it's all-over crappiness highlighted what's so good about everything else.
Late morning I got an e-mail saying that I, a lowly freshman, had been chosen by the NBC Olympic to interview for an internship at the Vancouver Olympics.
"No way!" I thought. "They NEVER choose freshman, it's too good to be true!"
It was.
I got an e-mail forty minutes later with a pleading apology, saying that they had accidentally sent the congratulations to all the students that were not selected. So, essentially, they had given the entire freshman class and most of the sophomore class of Parkies some crucial emotional whiplash.
After the sinking disappointment tempered and I had commiserated with some of my fellow Parkies, I started re-evaluating.
What if I had gone to Vancouver? My study abroad time would be spent in Canada. And for what? It would have been amazing, don't get me wrong. I love the Olympics. But here's the thing:
I am so sick of writing about sports. Maybe it's covering a single, flat team at a D-III school for the third time this year that's turned me off. I've read some amazing articles in Sports Illustrated these past few weeks and they've really said something. When I finish reading those, I feel as though I know a little bit more about who we all are as people. But here's the thing:
Sports-- beyond football--don't occupy my thoughts. Considerations about them don't linger in my head days after I've watched a game. I'm not one of those people who spits information back about every player for every sport in every decade.
I was buying sushi California rolls at the cafe today for lunch and I was still thinking about global politics, an hour after the class had ended. I was still preoccupied and frustrated with possible and seemingly unattainable solutions to Australia's broken refugee policies an hour after my class.
That's not exactly typical. That says something big, I think.
So maybe I'll keep writing about sports. It's good training, and if it's about football, I'm all for it. But the point I'm making here is that I'm starting to figure out where I want to end up. I'm starting to figure out what's important to me, and what I like. And if it took a stupid mix-up and a few boring swimming articles for me to figure that out, so be it.
The metaphorical sniffles I had today also showed me what great support I have here. My friends are awesome. It also showed me that I can get something from failure, from not being the exception, and being disappointed.
Let's end this un-fun post with a reasoning from the dad in Calvin and Hobbes:
It builds character!
